How They Met
by 94 Bottles Of Snapple
Summary: How some of our favorite canon couples came to be. Ch 1: Ladd & Lua. Ch 2: Isaac & Miria Ch. 3: Jacuzzi & Nice
1. Chapter 1

Ladd and Lua

**A/N: Ok, I don't own Baccano or any of its characters. This is the first in what will hopefully be a four or five-chapter story about how various Baccano couples met, but it might just end with this. Who knows?**

Lua was aware of death, so very aware, ever since her childhood. Its shadow was her constant companion. She was weak, they said. Weak against illness. But Lua Klein was another kind of weak. She was weak against others, against orders. Prim little delicate Lua, always doing as she's told, always waiting, watching.

She had been sitting alone at the window. It was gray outside. It wasn't raining. She took in thoughts and observations simply. There was no reason to do otherwise. And yet…

When the door slammed open, she whirled about, and observed many, many things at once. Her barrier of death was shattered, the melancholy released, though she didn't yet know it. She saw the man in the doorway; the dark gleam of his blue eyes, living with so much more color than any sky could muster. His hair, falling golden onto his forehead. And that suit, all black and white, and stained so fully with red. Red what? What is red?

And red was Ladd, and Ladd was red, and everything was a whirl and death was a game. And when she was finished taking him in, she saw so clearly the death on him, around him, but never inside of him. He was untouched by it, unsoiled by the death that was all around. And he was an angel, an angel of death, and she welcomed him so eagerly that he took pause. He lowered the gun.

And Ladd Russo took a second look at the young woman inside the bare room. She was willowy, and slender. Her face was blank, and yet, she smiled at him, smiled and stood to greet him. Her dress was white, all white, and he wondered what she would look like covered in blood. Her blood? No. … Maybe.

"What's your name, dollface?"

And his voice was rough and gravelly, and it took them both by surprise how well their voices fit, when she replied.

"Lua… Klein."

And her light, airy, barely-there voice fit so perfectly with his rough tones.

They were perfect together. He was perfect. And maybe, Lua thought for the first time in her life, maybe Lua could be perfect too. Perfect for Ladd.

And he introduced himself as Ladd Russo, and he told her so arrogantly that he'd killed her parents that it was a dream and a nightmare all at once, and nothing was real, and she took his hand as he led her out. Out of her perfectly woven cage of silk and towers and pale walls and gray skies.

And every day, when she woke up, he would tell her.

"Good morning, Lua. Remember, stick close and don't let anyone touch you, doll. No one but me is allowed to kill you."

Ladd wanted the splendor of destroying something so pure on his own hands. Lua was his, and no one else's, and so no one else had the right, the _privilege_, to kill her.

And Lua waited patiently, as patiently as she had always waited for death. And yet, it was not death whose shadow enveloped her now, but Ladd. Her Ladd. And if she could see him as he killed her that would be enough. Because, who else would she ever want to kill her, than this man she loved? Why let any other person soil her death? Why let some pitiful disease take her life? Her death was _precious_. It was something sacred; and so Lua lived on, for herself, and for Ladd. And she would keep living, and she wouldn't die, because Ladd was going to kill her. Only Ladd.

And yet…

Lua knew that Ladd's words had a double meaning. At least when it came to her. He said to her 'I want to kill you', but what he meant also was 'I love you'. For Ladd, the only great pleasure he'd ever known was in killing, and so he was completely oblivious to what the word 'love' truly meant. Lua could see this so easily. The joy on his face when he killed blocked from her own mind the violently terrifying act of killing itself. And Lua never looked away. She would watch Ladd, keep him close. She knew, of course, that with Ladd's obliviousness to what he was actually feeling came a consequence.

It was a sure fact that he would kill her. But she didn't mind. Not if she could see that blissful look on his face while he killed her. She could withstand, maybe even relish in the pain, if it came to that. She had been with death so long that death was not what scared her. Not her own, at least, as she would come to find.

But she had a faint inkling that Ladd might never kill her at all. That his words were completely empty. That, or even if he did begin to kill her, that he would not take pleasure in it. That he would not take joy in killing her. That surely would shock him to no end, but if something like that ever happened, Lua would be there to channel his passion down the correct track.

The voice of the stranger covered in blood seemed strange, almost siren-like to her. She couldn't resist him, because she couldn't die before Ladd killed her. She'd promised, and she would do anything to stay alive for him. So gripping the edge of the train, she could do nothing but listen. Listen to this 'Rail Tracer', the man covered from head to toe in blood. Listen as he rambled on and on about how the world revolved around him, how he couldn't imagine the world without himself in it. Lua understood how he felt, if only slightly. After being with Ladd so long, Lua wasn't sure what she would do if he were to suddenly be gone. If this 'Rail Tracer' killed Ladd… If… But Lua could get no farther. She couldn't finish the sentence. Because with no Ladd, there was no her. No purpose to her life. If he wasn't there… He couldn't dance with her, or talk in that soft velvet tone, or whine about silly, pointless things, or… Or… If there was no Ladd… Who was going to kill her?

She couldn't let him die; she couldn't let him be killed, not now. Neither of them could die before Ladd killed her. It was an oath, a promise between them… But Lua had to do this, because Ladd didn't see that this man might kill him; might kill him and then he would be gone and Lua would be alone, and no one would be there to kill her. So she didn't resist, didn't pull away from the man in blood, didn't protest when he slipped a noose around her neck.

And Lua was in ecstasy when Ladd grabbed her. And she could still recognize that loving tone in her ear, as he looked down at her in the most tender way she'd ever seen from him.

"I wish I could kill you right now…"

And that was all she needed to hear. Ladd was going to live. Her world would survive. And with it continued the promise of her death, the sweetest pain she would surely ever know.

It shocked her when the noose slid away. The knot slipped untied inexplicably. That man, that 'Rail Tracer'… He had never intended to kill her at all. But why, how…? It made no sense at all to Lua. But she couldn't complain, not if Ladd was there with her, alive and breathing. His right arm was mutilated, though. The only part of him left below the elbow was his blood-soaked bone. No indication of a hand at all. She could feel the bile rising in her throat. Violence was not something that got to her after so long with Ladd, but to see her fiancé himself the victim was almost beyond what she could bear. Everything went black for Lua.

And when he was there, and there were police all around them, and he crooned to her in that rough voice, that he would have killed her sooner, if only, if only he knew. He was apologizing, apologizing to her. Never before had that happened.

"I could still kill you right now," he whispered to her, conspiratorially.

"But, Ladd…" Lua started, voice soft and tender.

Death was _sacred_! She didn't want to be killed with all these strangers, these cops watching. She didn't want to be killed when Ladd himself was in so much pain. Because if he killed her now, who would take care of him? Who would make sure _he_ didn't die?

But Ladd didn't see these things, didn't understand them, and his childish rage burst forth in angry words. Betrayed, angry, didn't she _want_ to be killed by him? Didn't she? Wasn't that why she was here?

But then the police separated them, took Ladd away. They didn't see, didn't see what being killed _meant_ to her! Didn't understand that she needed Ladd, that he needed her.

So they took Ladd away, and Lua was alone, and the skies were gray again. But Lua would wait. She could wait. It was what she had done all her life. She would be there, would find a way to find Ladd again. He had to be there, or she would refuse to die. It had to be Ladd, and no one else, or Lua would refuse to die.

So she watched, and waited, and she found that boy, Graham Specter, and his gang. And with them she planned, and they would go to Alcatraz and get Ladd for her, and bring her life back; bring back Ladd. And then her dreams returned, because Ladd would be back soon, soon, and things would be fine again. Fine and good, and she would be killed by Ladd, and that would be her happy ending, and no one else could say otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own Baccano! But I do own my personal ideas on how all of these couples probably met. Woohoo. Oh; also, Isaac-focused bits in bold, Miria-focused bits in normal text, shared bits in italics. K? K.  
**

Isaac and Miria

** Isaac Dian's brain was a dangerous place to be. Words, facts, ideas, names, all jumbled around, raced in circles, mixed up. A whirlwind of knowledgeable confusion. And it was a tragedy, because Isaac loved to talk, loved to feel as though he could be an authority on something. And he was so well-read and curious and loved to learn. But the moment he went to relay the information to someone, it would switch places, lose itself on the way from his brain to his mouth. Scramble itself with some other idea, and he was always wrong wrong wrong. And Isaac spent his whole life being wrong. He was so used to it; it came naturally to him, he supposed. But still he would open his mouth; though he knew, always, that he would regret it. But Isaac just had so much energy, so many ideas, so much knowledge. And even if he tried to stop, to control himself, it would all just burst out! And he was a man in torment. Until.**

Miria Harvent was simple. She could never focus. Never. She was always bouncing from one thing to another – nothing could ever hold her interest for long. And it was a shame, just a shame, because she was sweet and attractive and witty and kind, but she could never settle down. No one would marry someone like her. She knew because that's what everyone said. And since Miria could never hold still long enough to learn much of anything, she just had to trust them. And so very many, many people couldn't all be wrong, right? But though she tried her hardest to hold still, to not fidget, to not 'waste time mimicking her teachers and peers', Miria couldn't help it. Whenever anyone did something cool, she wanted to do it too. She wanted to be recognized as useful, as amazing. She wanted to be accepted by someone, anyone. So she couldn't help it when the mindless chatter, the mimicry, the flightiness just burst out of her! And Miria was a woman in torment. Until.

It was a costume store. If there was anything Miria loved, it was costumes. She wasn't watching where she was going – as usual. Distracted by each new color, new pattern, new option.

**Isaac was browsing. He loved eccentricities, costumes especially. They were just so fun! He felt as if he were a child again. At 23, he was anything but. Still – anything to get people to take notice – to see him.**

_Thud._

**Without looking up, Isaac barked out a 'Hey, watch it!' only to be surprised when his sentence was repeated back at him.**

Miria covered her mouth. Oh no! She'd done it again; repeated someone, like that! Oh no, oh no!

**Isaac glanced down from the ceiling to see a blonde girl on the ground. Girl, as she couldn't be more than 17. She didn't seem to be hurt, but was apparently too busy having a panic attack to remember to stand up. And… She was so pretty! Isaac bit his lip. Ok. He needed to make sure – be absolutely positive – he didn't mess things up, the way he usually did. Make sure he didn't start spouting nonsense.**

The large hand extended to her finally registered in Miria's mind, past the embarrassed thoughts. She traced it with her eyes, up a strong arm to a confident, grinning face. Oh. Miria had almost forgotten she'd hit someone. Hesitantly, she placed her small hand in his large one. Ok. She had to make sure – be absolutely positive – she didn't mess things up, the way she usually did. Make sure she didn't get distracted.

**And he pulled her up, marveling at how light she was, and he was so hypnotized, so unsure, so tongue-tied that he forgot to introduce himself. Forgot to ask her name.**

Miria was startled. So startled that she forgot to let go of his hand. It felt so warm and nice in hers. But the most surprising thing was that he was so interesting. There was something in his brown eyes that sparked her imagination. That held her interest. Those eyes told her that he was someone truly special, someone who would be able to hold her attention for however long was even possible. Or impossible. He had an aura about him of the impossible. But who was he? Miria thought she would be the only adult alone in a costume shop. But maybe, maybe Miria wasn't alone.

"Do you like costumes?"

**Isaac tried to stop himself. He really did. But… But no one ever asked him questions anymore. No one. No! He had to stay calm, to keep from saying- but he knew so much! He could tell her all the wild stories he'd read of disguises and mystery and monsters and Sherlock Holmes!**

** "I love them! Why, costumes are some of the most amazing things ever created! Why, one time, Sherlock Holmes was able to defeat Godzilla just using a simple disguise!"**

** … Oh, no. He'd done it again. He couldn't pinpoint where, but something was terribly wrong with what he'd told her, and she would know, and oh no, oh no…-**

"R-really? T-that's incredible!"

No one had ever told her things before. So many people had just given up. But Miria could read, though she hadn't the patience for it. And she'd heard of Sherlock Holmes, and that was exciting! He was talking about something she knew! Oh. But… Who was this Godzilla? Miria's shoulders slumped. She had no idea… What if she asked, and he thought she was stupid…?

**It was impossible! It was amazing! She'd just taken his word, no criticism, nothing else, and Isaac must have gotten something right, then, surely! And she seemed so excited to learn from him, and maybe – just maybe, Isaac wasn't alone. Oh. But now she seemed sad. Had he said something? Isaac tried to recall.**

But this man seemed special… He did. So maybe, maybe he wouldn't mind?

"Um… Who is Godzilla?"

**Isaac smiled. That was all? That's what bothered her? Well, he could help! Because Isaac was so well-read, and he knew so much stuff! And she seemed interested, and it was wonderful, and she was perfect, absolutely perfect!**

** "Godzilla is this ancient monster from Japan, and he eats giant sushi rolls and really just wants to be a movie director, but alas! He can't because none of their buildings are big enough, and he just crushes everything in his path!" Isaac explained, gesturing wildly.**

"Oh, no! That's so tragic! They all think he's just a mean monster, when he only wants to make movies!" Miria gasped.

**"Yes, it's a tragedy…"**

"A tragedy."

And she didn't feel uncomfortable mimicking him. Because he was so cool, and he'd answered her question, and he was so incredible, and surely he knew everything in the world! Miria was utterly dazzled. He was so confident and smart, and she wanted to be just like him.

**And he noticed something. When he did something, she would follow. She wasn't mocking him, no, he was sure she wasn't. She seemed too sincere for that. And so that meant… She thought he was cool, thought he was worth copying! And he was flattered, and for once in his life, Isaac was right right right, and he loved it. He loved this feeling, where all of her attention was focused on him, and he never wanted her to leave, if only she would stay, somehow he had to get her to stay…**

** "Tell me, is there something wrong?"**

And she knew then he must be a mind reader or something, because he knew, oh he knew! Her problem! Only, he looked like he wanted to help her. Looked like he cared, really, and so, and so…

"Everyone thinks I'm stupid…"

**Isaac gasped.**

** "Why, who would think that?"**

** Who would ever tell this lovely, charming girl she was stupid? It was a sin, a downtright sin! And Isaac felt so protective of her. This girl, this person who had listened to his stories, his words, who looked up to him, and how dare they?**

** And then Isaac had an idea. A wonderful, brilliant, AMAZING idea!**

** "We can prove them wrong!" he shouted at last, excitement expanding his voice, so that it boomed out of him. "Because, you know who isn't stupid?"**

"Who?"

Her eyes were shining. He'd said they would prove them wrong. She was being accepted, accepted, because he thought she wasn't stupid, and he cared and yes, yes, yes!

**Isaac leaned over to whisper conspiratorially.**

** "Thieves."**

"Thieves…"

The idea had honestly never occurred to her!

**"Yes, because thieves can steal things and not get caught, so of course they must be geniuses!"**

"Oh… But I'm not a thief… I don't know how to steal stuff…"

**And Isaac was lying through his teeth, but oh, it felt so good…**

** "Well, I just happen to be a master thief!"**

"A master thief…"

**"Yes! And if you stick with me, why, I can teach you all about it, and no one will ever call you stupid again!"**

That sounded perfect, just perfect, wonderful, awesome, INCREDIBLE! Because they would be together, and Miria would prove all those people wrong, because someone as great as this man surely couldn't be wrong! He had to be right, even if it made all those other people wrong.

"That's incredible! Let's do it!"

**"Yes, let's!"**

_And they set off, and the world was complete, and they were going to be the best thieves anyone had ever seen! They would be famous, and smart, and they would be right! Oh, but wait…_

"Um… What's your name?"

**Isaac deadpanned. Oh. Oops.**

** "Why, my name is Isaac! Isaac Dian! What's yours?"**

"Miria Harvent!"

**"Well, then, Miria, my dear, let's go and meet our destiny!"**

"Meet our destiny!"

_And then it was all perfect; and no one would ever say otherwise. Isaac's many plans, many ideas, kept Miria focused and grounded. Miria's honest exuberance and wide-eyed belief kept Isaac's spirits high. And there was no doubt in either of their minds that they would live happily ever after. _


	3. Chapter 3

Nice and Jacuzzi

** A/N: I gotta tell ya... These two are so freaking adorable. Like really. Might do a Gretto & Sylvie chapter if I ever figure out exactly how I think they met... Anyway, Jacuzzi bits in regular text, Nice bits in italics.**

Being alone was scary. Everything was scary. Scary...

And it was so hard to be such a small guy, a small kid... All alone. And that's what Jacuzzi Splot was. Alone.

He shook, tiny hands trembling fiercely. He was so shaken, he almost dropped the small half-loaf of bread he'd stolen. Jacuzzi didn't like stealing from the store owners. He didn't like it at all. He left a sorry note, and half of whatever he stole, the food. Left half the loaf of bread behind, because, though he didn't feel like it, he was a very kind soul.

_Nice Hollystone was always a curious young girl. Obsessed with adventure, and other things like that... But she was, above all, a very kind girl. A very kind girl._

_ And when she saw the boy shivering in the alley, her heart jerked in her chest. So she grabbed his hand, holding tight, no matter his feeble struggles, and pulled him into the house. Held on to his hand, so he wouldn't leave while she made him a sandwich._

She was... Giving him food? Him? And he took it hesitantly, and when he saw the spark of happiness in her eyes as he did so, he proceeded to scarf down the sandwich. Jacuzzi liked to see people happy. He liked to see this pretty blond girl happy. She seemed like such a nice person. Oh... He needed to be polite, huh...

"I'm Jacuzzi... Jacuzzi Splot."

And he didn't stammer once in that sentence, though his voice was still timid and weak; so he knew she must be special.

_"I'm Nice. N-I-C-E, ok?" she demanded, though not unkindly. "Not niece. Nice."_

_ The boy nodded seriously, and then in a sudden burst, his face broke out in a smile._

He remembered later, how he laughed when he learned how her name was spelled. 'Nice', because she was such a nice girl. She'd asked him what was so funny, but he just couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell her. And she began to laugh too.

_ And somehow this felt so right, having this boy as a friend. It really did. When he came knocking in her window, having climbed up the drainpipe... Bringing her flowers and shiny rocks that he'd found, and other things._

_ He'd told her she was beautiful, once. And Nice was so proud; she liked that he thought she was pretty. She wanted to stay pretty in his eyes forever._

_ But that didn't stop her from experimenting._

_ Nice had a passion for explosions. Ever since she was very very young... Seeing those fireworks up in the sky, squirming in her father's strong arms as her eyes glowed in amazement._

_ And then... The accident._

The accident...

He knew Nice had been hurt very badly. She had a scar on her face, all across one side, he knew. He'd gotten a brief flash of the damage before she'd rushed away from him.

She'd refused to see him since.

Jacuzzi felt so terrible...

Poor Nice... Poor Nice... And what if people stared at her? Stared and thought she was ugly? Because she wasn't. Not ever! Not even if... If... If she lost her whole face or something! Or if she couldn't walk anymore, or something really terrible.

But he wanted to make her feel better.

So he would...

_He wouldn't... He wouldn't think she was pretty anymore... And Nice died inside. Because Jacuzzi was... He was her only friend, and she... What if he thought she was ugly now, and he would never... And she could never see him, because he would... He'd just stare, wouldn't he..._

_ And then the knock on her window._

_ "Nice...? Nice, I'm coming up..."_

_ No no no..._

_ But when she peeked out the window, and she saw that tattoo... Right across the side of his face, of his beautifully unmarred face... And it meant something. So she began to cry; and it wasn't happy. But not sad either._

_ She was glad that he wanted to make her feel better, but it must have hurt him terribly, and not only physically. Because Jacuzzi was shy, and people staring would hurt him emotionally._

"Nice, I'm sorry... I'm sorry!"

She was crying, and it was all his fault! He didn't mean to! He didn't mean to make Nice sad! He just wanted to make her feel better! And then the tears were slipping down his cheeks too.

Everything had gone all wrong! He wanted to make her feel better, and here they were both crying. No, no, no...

_He was apologizing, but what for? And she realized that her crying must have..._

_ Jacuzzi was so sensitive, so he must have thought she was upset with him, and he..._

_ But it wasn't true! She was..._

_ And Nice realized for the first time in days that she was feeling something._

_ She was happy. She loved this clumsy, awkward, stuttering boy._

And later she explained to him; at least partially. She was happy, she was crying because he'd touched her heart. And Jacuzzi felt choked up and embarrassed and happy all at once. And then he was crying happy tears, like she had.

Everything would be ok... Because this was the girl he loved. No matter her scars, no matter anything else. He never would want for anything if she was there with him, by his side.


End file.
